


Go to Hell with Me

by masakados



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Choking, Dirty Talk, Glove Kink, Grinding, Light Bondage, Orgasm Denial, Other, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, gender neutral reader that has a vagina, reader tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masakados/pseuds/masakados
Summary: Jane teaches you a new trick with a locker that ends up in an awkward situation feat. you and one Mr. Ghost Face.Turns out you can use his obsession with you to your advantage.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/You
Comments: 37
Kudos: 438





	Go to Hell with Me

**Author's Note:**

> i really extremely badly wanted some more bottom ghost face in the reader/ghostface tag so. here ya go.

You wake up in a basement. Your eyes quickly take in the concrete walls, the dim light bulbs, and you realize that you are in a trial. Lampkin Lane, to be precise. You sigh. Haddonfield was one of the more comforting realms to be sent to, as you could feel some small scrap of normalcy when buried deep in a house doing a generator. If it weren't for the looming threat of being stabbed, you might even feel relaxed while toiling away at a machine.

You creep through the basement of the house, choosing to head upstairs to repair a generator tucked in a crevice beside the stairway. Once there, you rattle off the list of potential killers in your head, trying to narrow down who you could be potentially up against. You feel completely awake and alert, so it probably wasn't Freddy. You can't hear any chainsaws revving in the distance, cutting out Billy and Bubba. Maybe Huntress? You strain your ears to catch a sign of the telltale humming, but all you could hear was the chugging of the generator in front of you.

Perhaps a more silent killer then. You haven't gone up against Wraith or the Shape in a while; perhaps the entity thought it was your time. Or maybe.... Ghost Face. You purse your lips thinking about him. The Shape and Ghost Face were both stalking killers, and yet decidedly different. The Shape chose to stay far away, just out of the range of the survivors' vision if you weren't looking close enough at the fog. Once you saw him, he was blatantly conspicuous, and he never made much of an effort to hide once spotted. Ghost Face liked to get in close to the survivors and peek at them from around tree trunks and walls. He didn't like to be seen, popping back behind cover as soon as you caught a glance. You kind of got a mischievous vibe from the guy as well, like he was taking this whole thing as just a fun game instead of a ruthless life and death struggle.

Oh, also, the Ghost Face was  _ obsessed _ with you.

Not in like a weird way, at least as non-weird as an obsession could be. In most of your trials with Ghost Face you started out as his obsession, some weird nebulous thing you just  _ knew _ was true. Most times it didn't matter in the long run, or at least, it seemed not to matter, but it still was a little funny. Why you, out of all the survivors? Everyone else agreed that it was dumb luck, and laughed it off around the campfire in between trials.

Speaking of - you can’t feel that uncomfortable, borderline suffocating feeling right now, so you assume that it wasn't Ghost Face. That, or maybe he had gotten tired of obsessing over you for trials upon trials.

A noise in the doorway startles you, and you barely manage to calibrate the generator without setting it off. You glance over your shoulder to see Jane, shaking like she had just run for her life.

"Who is it?" you ask, turning back to the generator.

"Don't know. Laurie was with me on a generator, and she peeled off when she heard or saw something weird, so I followed her lead. I didn't hear anything but, you know how Laurie seems to 'get' killers better than we do."

You frown. A killer with a small terror radius? That was a useful piece of information, but unfortunately didn't narrow down the list of potential suspects.

"I'm almost finished with this generator" you say, and you hear Jane step past you.

"Good. I'll head to another one then. And remember that trick I told you with the locker. Feel like it might come in handy this trial"

You nod again, focusing on connecting the final few wires, and you hear Jane leave.

A minute later, the generator snaps on with a satisfying pop, and you stand up and stretch, having been crouching uncomfortably while working on it.

You start to look around, deciding where to head next, but an uncomfortable prickle on the back of your neck warns you of prying eyes. You whip your head around to just catch a glimpse of a black and white mask pulling back behind a doorway.

"Fucker!" you think, and sprint in the opposite direction. It was Ghost Face after all, and he had been staring at you for God knows how long while you were lost in your thoughts.

A quick glance over your shoulder reveals him chasing after you, down the hallway and up the stairs of the house. He slashes at your back, but you twist out of the way and he catches your arm instead, not a deep slash, but it still stings like hell. You hiss through gritted teeth as you vault a window onto the house's balcony, hearing the pounding of your heart in your ears come back as the Ghost Face uncloaks. You know you have just a moment while he stops to wipe your blood off his knife, so you quickly leap over the balcony's handrails and land on the ground with only a slight stagger. You scan the backyard, seeing a locker a few feet away, and you jump into it without hesitation.

You know that Ghost Face saw you enter the locker, and you pray your gamble was going to work. There isn't much in this backyard, and you need to put some space between you and the killer. Stunning him for a few seconds is all that you need.

You hear his footsteps padding softly across the grass as he heads towards you, and you clench your fists in anticipation. You wait a few more precious seconds, and then burst out of the doors of the locker once you hear him stop in front of it.

Ghost Face definitely isn't expecting you to come dashing out at him, and he falls back on his ass as you body slam him. His legs shoot up at an awkward angle, kicking aimlessly, and you fall with a swear as you trip on his ankle.

You both tumble to the ground, and you act quickly to shift your weight onto him to prevent him from moving, pinning his arms by his side with all your strength.

A momentary silence passes over the two of you, broken only by your short breaths of exertion. Ghost Face is deathly still, and you wonder for a moment if he had hit his head on a rock and passed out. He could have struggled, tried to push you off him, tried to stab you, but he was just lying there.

Being straddled by you, you realized with a flash of embarrassment. Good thing you had decided to wear pants to this trial. "You ok, dude" you say hesitantly, then immediately want to take it back at how stupid it sounded. Concerned about the killer when this guy has been hunting you and your friends down for months on end? Idiotic.

Still, there was something about Ghost Face that humanized him a little more than some of the other killers you had faced. Aside from his supernatural ability to peer at you without being noticed, he was just a regular guy. Well, that and his unnatural strength, with how he was able to hoist survivors over his shoulder and onto hooks without breaking a sweat. Which made it all the more strange that he wasn't fighting you holding him down at all.

You hear a slight panting sound that isn't your own breath, and you tilt your head. Was that him? You didn't even think the guy could breathe. "Hey, man, seriously-" you started to say as you lean over him more, shifting your butt back a bit.

Right onto a painfully obvious bulge in Ghost Face's pants.

Time seemed to stop for a moment as you ran through six different emotions before deciding on incredulousness. It is almost imperceptible, but you swear you feel Ghost Face tense up beneath you. "Oh my God" you say softly, and then laugh.

"Oh my God dude - seriously? Are you getting off to this? Does being tackled by someone turn you on this much?" You keep laughing, mostly because you weren't sure how else to respond to the person who was supposed to kill you popping a boner in the middle of attempted murder.

You hear Ghost Face mumble something beneath you, and it takes a decent amount of self control to stop giggling like an idiot. "Repeat that for me, babe?"

Oh my God, did you just throw a pet name in there. What the  _ fuck _ was going on in your brain right now. You feel too giddy off of adrenaline and the sheer absurdity of this situation to think straight.

"It's just you," you heard Ghost Face say in a low voice, and your eyebrows shoot up once you process that. Oh. _ Oh. _

He still isn't struggling, and you think it might be fun to push this, to see how far you can go. When else are you going to get power over a killer like this?

You shift your weight again, grinding against his crotch just enough to force out a groan from him. He was trying to muffle himself, trying to salvage this in any way possible, but it was too late. You had smelled blood.

"Tell you what Ghost Face, drop your knife and come with me and maybe, you'll get something more than this." You punctuate your sentence with another roll of your hips, and the poor bastard actually bucks his hips up into yours. You flush, still not believing that this was actually happening. What were the rules for interactions like this? Would you get punished for....

The thought trailed off as Ghost Face nods, almost a bit too enthusiastically. His right fist loosens, and you snatch the knife up without a second thought. Thinking fast, you tug on one of the leather straps that floated perpetually behind Ghost Face, pulling it taut. His knife severs the strap without trouble, and Ghost Face seems to wince. While he’s distracted, you pull his wrists together and wrap the strap around them. You wish you knew how to tie an actually secure knot, but you figure just tying his wrists up tight will suffice as enough insurance for now.

You finally get off him, and you snort as you hear him whimper at the loss of contact. Was he this undone already just from a little grinding? You waste no time in tugging him up by another one of his leather straps, and then pulling him behind you into the house.

While you head up the stairs to find an appropriate room, Ghost Face clears his throat. "Call me Danny," he says.

"Hmmm....?" you murmur, still leading him like a dog on a leash. "Ah, alright, calling you Ghost Face in bed would be a bit of a turn off, I suppose". Ghost Fa-Danny, coughs at that, and you smirk.

You stride into a small bedroom in the corner of the house. No room in this house had a door, unfortunately, but at this point getting caught by one of the other survivors was the least of your concerns. You push Danny unceremoniously onto the bed and clamber on top of him, straddling him again. You stab his knife into the side of the mattress, not really wanting to have it out of sight quite yet.

"How long have you been waiting for this Danny?" you ask, ever so slightly starting to rub against his crotch.

"Too long" he replies, letting out a contented purr. "I-I've been watching you for so long, been thinking about you for so damn long, I-" He yelps as your hands spread across his chest, fiddling idly with the straps and buckles across his coat. "I've wanted you for so  _ fucking _ long."

Hearing Danny be so unabashedly open about his obsession does  _ something _ to you, and you feel heat start to pool between your legs. You want to laugh again.

Instead, you grind down on him harder, more contact, more friction. An obscene noise escapes Danny as he bucks into you, wrists straining against his ties. You feel yourself getting slick as you dry hump him, and you tug at the straps on his chest more urgently. How the hell does he get his damn coat off?

Finally the buckles give way and you pull open his coat, revealing a thin black shirt underneath. You stop grinding on him for just a moment (and you really hate how much you like the pained whine that comes from him at that) to undo the belt at his waist and hitch his pants down below his underwear.

God, he's stupidly hard, and already leaking precum from the looks of the damp spot on his underwear. You shift your weight down below his crotch, and gently palm at him through his boxers. He groans again, arching his back.

You stop fondling him through his boxers and he exhales. "I'm so fucking  _ close _ doll" he wheezes, and you smirk at that.

"Why do you think I stopped? It's no fun if you cum with barely any touching." There's still a small part of your brain that is yelling about how fucked up and weird this is that you're getting freaky with a serial killer of all people but you push it down, drowning it in the lizard brain horniness that’s quickly overtaking your mind.

You run your hands up his shirt. He's slimmer than you expected, but still muscular. He arcs into your touch as you push his shirt up, stroking his nipples in lazy circles. "Please-" he begs, voice husky. "Use your mouth"

You're happy to oblige as you lean down and lick a stripe up his chest, ending in a bite that elicits a moan from Danny. You litter his chest in kisses, sometimes biting hard enough to bruise, sometimes feather light pecks that make Danny writhe and beg for more from you.

"W-wait" he gasps as you suck on his nipple slowly, lazily. You snort.

"I want to- fuck- I-I want to kiss you" he stutters in between moans, and you sit up.

"Fine," you say, and give him a peck on his plastic mask.

"For fucks sake- I mean  _ really _ kiss me. Take my mask off."

That makes you pause, cheeks flushed. Until today the Ghost Face had just been a faceless killer, a stalker in the night that wanted nothing more than to put your insides on the outside. Of course, you were fucking now, but revealing his face felt almost too intimate. Felt like giving a face to the shapeless horror you grappled with on a daily basis.

"Please-" he whines again, and the need in his voice goes straight between your legs. You growl, and shove his mask up unceremoniously.

His face makes you stop. He's utterly, disgustingly pretty. Brown hair, curled delicately over his flushed cheeks. Green eyes with pupils blown out in lust. A dotting of freckles across his nose. And- is he drooling? Holy  _ shit. _

He's wriggling again, trying to get up to meet your lips, so you push his arms above his head and crash into his face. He kisses you like he's a parched man getting water, like he can't drink you up fast enough. His teeth clack against yours and you wince when he bites your lip but it's absolutely what he needed. What you needed, you're realizing.

He moans into your mouth, low and throaty, and hearing his voice not muffled by his shitty cheap mask makes you ache, and you slide a hand into your pants just to touch yourself a little. Just to keep yourself from going crazy.

He must have seen that because he begs again, wrists shaking above his head. "Let me touch you"

You pull back with a start and he tries to chase the kiss. "Please-" he corrects himself.

You think for a moment, about his hands roaming your body, about him fingering you until you cum onto his bloodsoaked gloves, and you bite the inside of your mouth. You want him, sure, but you're still a tiny bit worried that he won't be so submissive once he's not tied up.

"Maybe in a bit," you say. "I don't know if I can trust you yet."

He huffs. "What do I have to do to have you trust me?"

You ponder that for a moment, studying Danny beneath you, his chest a mess of hickeys and bite marks. His neck is still barren though, and that gives you an idea.

"Lemme choke you a little bit." Just saying that lights a spark in you, and you clench down on your thigh to keep yourself from touching your (now soaked) underwear again.

Danny quirks an eyebrow, a hint of his normal sass coming back. "Is that your fucking kink? Choking people out? What a degenerate-" His snark is cut off with a moan as you grind against his dick.

"No more of a degenerate than the killer who gets off to having a survivor wreck them." you remark, and Danny sticks out his tongue at you. "So...?"

"Fucking OK," Danny growls. "At least touch me when you're squeezing the life out of me."

You smirk, and instead of answering him out loud you rut against him again, before deciding that your pants are way too stuffy now.

Danny opens his mouth to complain when you stop touching him again, but he shuts it seeing you shimmy your pants down to your knees, then your ankles, then kicking them to the floor with your shoes. It's pretty difficult to do so while still straddling Danny, but you manage. He whistles. You press back down to his hips.

"Holy s-shit" he gasps as you start moving again. "You're so fucking wet, doll." He manages a shit eating grin, somehow. "And you're trying to pretend you're not as hot for this as I am?"

You press down on his neck with your hands, smothering any further quips. He lets out a woosh of air and you swear his dick  _ jumps _ . You file that away in the back of your mind for later unpacking.

You aren't cutting off his airway entirely, so his breath comes out in short pants as you massage his throat with his thumbs, smiling sweetly all the while. He's drooling again, and you kiss him, open mouth.

You take a moment to revel in the moment, feeling more powerful than you have since you got pulled out of your regular life for these damn games. It's horrible and fucked up that you're that into this, but at this point you don't care. Maybe that's just how you are now.

Danny's thrusts into you are getting more erratic, so you pull away entirely before he's completely gone. You stop choking him too, and he sucks in fresh air as tears well up in the corners of his eyes.

"You good?" you say, a little worried that you pushed too far.

He grins back at you. "I feel fucking fantastic. At least, I did until you blue-balled me yet again."

You smile back. "You need to learn how to be patient."

"You're such a cocktease."

"You're the one who decided to be obsessed with me."

He grits his teeth, not wanting to say anything to that.

"Anyways, since you've been a good boy, I guess I can let you free." His eyes light up. You glance at the knife in the corner of the mattress, calculating if you can grab it before him if shit goes south. You decide that the safest bet would be to cut him free with his knife. You think that the knots you tied are probably too mangled to fiddle with.

He sucks in a breath slowly as you reach back for his knife, his eyes locked to your hand as you drag the tip up his stomach.

"Babe stop teasing me-" he whines, then winces as you let the point dig a little too deep into his skin. "It's torture."

"Your cock says otherwise," you say, and give his dick a squeeze with your free hand. He bites down on his tongue to stifle a moan, and you snicker.

Finally you lean up and pull his hands down in front of his face, sawing at the leather strap carefully to avoid nicking his hands. He shakes his wrists out once he's free, mumbling something about how sore his arms are going to be tomorrow. You're still holding his knife, and he's watching you cautiously.

He fusses with the fastenings on his hood and the sleeves of his jacket and his shirt, until he's shed them. He's about to take off his gloves too when you grab his wrist. "Keep the gloves on," you insist, and start lazily tracing lines across his chest with his knife again.

He looks as if he's about to complain again, but his knife skips towards his throat and he swallows instead. "You really want my bloody gloves on you?" he says.

You want to say yes, but you've already outed your choking kink to him and you don't think he deserves learning more about you tonight. Instead you say, "You have to earn the right to touch me with bare hands."

He clenches and unclenches his hands. "Fine. Fucking filthy, doll." His hands are all over you in a flash. Your skin is heated now, and his fingers feel like tiny points of ice, even through his leather gloves. It's enough to make you shiver.

You let him sit up, let him kiss the hollow between your neck and collarbone, and all the while he's babbling something about how hot you are and how fucking good this is. You stab his knife into the corner of the mattress again, out of his line of sight but directly in yours. He bites into your neck and sucks hard, and momentarily you worry about having to explain the marks to the other survivors before that thought is crushed by lust.

His hand finds its way between your legs, and he rubs against your underwear, feeling your slit through the thin fabric. It takes immense self control to not ride his fingers, and you barely manage to suppress a breathy moan.

"You're so wet for me," he breathes in your ear, and you grip his shoulders so tight you're sure they'll bruise.

"Touch me," you demand, and he wastes no time in shoving his hand into your underwear. It's such a relief when he finally sticks two fingers inside of you, and curls his fingers into a sensitive bundle of nerves. You reward him with a moan and he speeds up, sliding a third finger in, and it's dizzying. You're glad that his face is tucked under your chin so you don't have to look at him smirking, but you can feel him smile against your neck.  _ Fuck _ it's been so long since someone touched you like this.

"You're so wet I can feel it through my gloves," he says into your skin. He swipes his thumb over your clit and you bite down on his shoulder as lightning flashes through you. He comes back to rub it in circular motions and you're practically riding his hand to your climax as he pumps his fingers in and out, it's so close so agonizingly close and-

You push him off you again and he falls to the bed with a noise of protest. That was close, too close. You're glad you're not standing because you're shaking so badly you can barely stay kneeling. Danny is looking at you with confusion in his eyes, and you flash him a smile. "Good boy."

He furrows his brows at you. "What the fuck was that? You don't want to cum?"

You shake your head. "What I want is for you to use your mouth." Carefully you pull down your underwear, slow enough so that Danny watches your every move. You push him back to the bed, scooching up so that his head is between your thighs. His hands wind up your legs, gripping your ass hard. You card a hand into his hair. It's softer than you expected it to be, not that you thought about Ghost Face's hair before today.

You pull his head into you before he can say another snarky remark, and he drags a hot tongue across your entrance. You clench your hand harder in his hair, and he takes that as encouragement. His lips are soft against you, and it's all you can do to not buck your hips into his face when his teeth graze your clit. You feel a (now familiar) buzz in your stomach, and this time you don't chase it away. Your climax comes almost too soon, and your moan is a jumble of curses and Danny's name.

You release Danny from your crotch, and he's gasping almost as much as you are. You feel your heart skip a beat as you look down at his face splattered with your cum. "God, you're a mess" you giggle, some of the earlier giddiness coming back in your post-orgasm high.

"I could say the same about you, doll," he says, "Now could I please take my gloves off"

You answer him by taking his hand in yours, and bringing it to your mouth where you bite the tip of his finger and yank the glove off. It tastes like leather and blood and /you/, and it's gross but also perfect at the same time. You remove his other glove in a similar fashion, spitting it out to the side of the bed when finished.

He's running his hands across your body again, one hand rubbing at your oversensitive entrance which makes you yelp, the other one tangling itself in your hair and pulling your head back to cover your neck in another layer of hickeys. You let him stay like that for a moment, enjoying the way he's almost humming across your skin.

You settle back down against his dick and he moans into your neck. You start grinding against him again, and he's almost keening in your ear with how eagerly he's begging.

"Please, babe, please, I'm so fucking close-  _ please _ ." You pull his head back and he's almost crying, even. Kind of cute that he's so worked up over not having cum yet? You file that in the back of your head with every other incriminating thought you've had about Ghost Face tonight.

You make an exaggerated show of pondering it over, still moving against Danny just enough to get him to whimper. "We-ll, I guess you've been a good enough boy to get a reward, do you think?" He nods enthusiastically, and you have to stifle a laugh at how pliant he's become.

"I think you're absolutely filthy, honestly. Getting off to having a survivor order you around and take you apart." He bucks his hips into you and you dig a hand into his hip, just above his waistband. It doesn't help his jitters. Praise, humiliation, whatever - it all seems to affect him coming from your mouth.

"I want you to cry my name when you cum" you say, thumbing the waistband of his boxer briefs. He's nodding, although you think at this point he would agree to anything you told him to do. You tell him your name and he repeats back to you like a prayer.

"Good boy," you say, just to get one more little rise out of him, and then you pull down his underwear hastily. He lets out a half-moan, half-sigh of relief.

His cock is practically dripping at this point, having been held on the brink of orgasm for so long. You give it a few experimental jerks, mainly just to see Danny shudder and spit a new string of obscenities as he struggles to not cum on the spot. He glares at you, and you feel his hands tighten on your hips. "I would appreciate for you to just fucking get on with it already" he says through gritted teeth.

"Get what on, Danny?" It's too easy to provoke him when he keeps setting you up like this. You move slowly, positioning yourself very carefully over him so his dick is just barely at your entrance.

He huffs. "Get on with fucking  _ me _ already." He's trying so hard to keep it together; you can see him trembling and it's so cute. Maybe you have a thing for this now. Doesn't matter.

"I want you to plead for it. Beg for it. Or I'll leave right now." The last part was mean, and probably a bluff, but you doubt he's thinking clearly enough for it to register as one. He's silent for a moment, and you tease him, rubbing against the tip of his length and making him hiss.

"Fine!" He sputters. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until it hurts and until I'm screaming your name and until I feel like there's nothing else in the world other than you fucking me." He's clearly embarrassed, but his dick twitches against you and you purr. 

"Good job!" you say cheerfully, and then take him all in with one thrust. Danny makes a delicious noise, his hands scrabbling against your back, trying to grab for purchase. You grab his hands and lead them back to your hips, squeezing his hands as you ride his cock. He tucks his head into your shoulder, and you tug at the hair on the nape of his neck to bring him back. You want to see his face, see him get taken apart by you piece by piece. His hair hangs in limp curls and his blush spreads down into his neck. He spits a curse at you and you laugh and kiss him, and he dips into the kiss hungrily, all tongue and teeth and not an ounce of restraint.

It feels like time slows down while you're fucking him, like every nerve of yours is on fire and is hyperactive on every point of contact with Danny. He's praising you and insulting you in the same breath, barely able to get a coherent sentence out at this point. You interrupt him with another kiss, and he moans against your lips. 

Eventually you feel an almost unbearable heat building in your core, and you can tell Danny's close too because he's thrusting into you more haphazardly than ever. 

"Danny," you sigh, peppering his jaw with kisses. "Danny, Danny, Danny." He moans your name in response. 

"Babe I'm close, I'm so close, I'm gonna-" His sentence is cut off with one last moan and string of curses, as he empties into you. clutching onto your hips desperately. That sets you over the edge too with a cry of his name and a collection of slurred syllables, and you keep riding him through the waves of your orgasm, feeling almost dizzy at how sensitive you are. 

Danny collapses onto the bed, gasping for breath. You carefully peel yourself off of him, almost unable to move yourself. A thought pops into your head, and you rifle through the pockets of Danny's jacket while he's too zoned out to notice. Your hands hit a chunk of plastic and you smirk.

Leaning back, you pull out Danny's camera and focus in on his face, savoring for a moment his look of post-climax bliss, with a little bit of your cum still drying on him. The snap of the camera startles him, and he sloppily reaches for the camera but you yank it out of his reach easily. 

"Give it back!" he yelps, and you shake your head. 

"Not unless you promise to not delete this one" you taunt.

He grits his teeth. "At least let me see it."

You pass the camera to him, and he flips the screen around and sighs. "God, I am a fucking mess." 

"Print that one for me, OK?" you say. He shoots a glare at you but doesn't say no. 

Now that you're no longer feverishly horny, the full extent of what's happened sinks in and you blush. You just humiliated a killer and made him beg for you to break him. You  _ fucked _ a killer. The same sort of giddiness from before surges, and you stifle a laugh. The small, logical part of your brain remaining is trying to pull together a string of excuses for what to tell the other survivors when you see them again, but it doesn't really matter right now. 

You slide off the bed, legs wobbly but not too much to stand. You're sure you look like a mess right now, hair ruffled up and Danny's cum leaking from you, but you focus on getting yourself cleaned up enough to not spark immediate questioning. Where the hell were the other survivors anyways? Probably shooting the shit around a fireplace in one of the houses, you guess, since there were no signs of the engdame collapse. Waiting for you to either be confirmed dead or come back to them.

Danny is quiet behind you while you dress. You think about how he could kill you right now, backstab you while you tie your shoes and zip up your pants, but you didn't really think he had it in him right now.

Still, you turn around quickly when you hear fabric rustling, but Danny was just pulling his pants and underwear back up. You catch yourself staring at his slim form, and snap your head to the side. 

You are prepared to head out, and you pad towards the door, but a small "Hey," stops you, and you glance over your shoulder. Danny is propped up in bed, his shitty mask in one hand. You tilt your head. 

Danny sighs. "Do you think-no. Would you ever do this again?" he asks, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. 

You roll the thought around in your mind for a long moment. On one hand, having the Ghost Face wrapped around your finger for an hour was a power trip and a half. On the other hand, you still don't know if the entity will crack down on you for toying with one of her playthings. 

Fuck it, you decide. It's not like things can get worse in this shithole. 

"I'd be happy to wreck you again, anytime!" you say with a wink, and Danny clenches his jacket as you bounce out the door.

Alone in the dingy room, Danny has plenty of space to consider just how deeply, royally, completely fucked over he is.

"Shit."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> you have no idea how much self restraint it took to not name this fic "head on more like Hard on" 
> 
> i cant believe out of all the horny fic ideas bouncing around in my brain this is what sees the light of day first but. ghost face got me acting up :woozy_face: :woozy_face: :woozy_face:


End file.
